Tuesday, Fourth Week
"I don't even know who Peter is and I doubt he sports a bath robe as well as you." -Jolyon, 04/20/2004
I've been meaning to post since two Mondays ago. I've forgotten most of all that, just like everything else lately has been popping out of my mind under the stress of doing all the urgent things I have on my plate.
Mary Moon will outlive all the septuagenarians.
Anyway, you know how a backhanded compliment is actually insulting? I think I received a backhanded insult that Monday.
The Province V Spring Retreat was lots of fun; I'm wearing the shirt even now. Met lots of cool people, had a chance to hang with some I already knew.
And it's so cold in Ohio, I think about it every time we roam; I knew I never should have left my home, and she's so sweet, she's so sweet, until I say hello.
Wednesday, Second Week
"It's not American; I don't know how it works." -Marie Justine Bell, 04/07/2004
This is the beginning of the end.
This is the beginning of a beginning.
So I had a pretty crazy night last night. I'll relate it speed-style: Went concert. No ID. Came back, grabbed ID, went back. Missed Starlister, also P1XEL. Made me sad. Saw Dig for Fire, were alright. Saw Health & Beauty, were alright, not as good as hoped. Still adore Sara, though. Awesome voice. Metra seems cool building, stupid rules (No re-entry? No mosh? The shaft?). Clark's, veggie burger good. Red line, met Lorange's friend Matt, his pals, random drunk kid from Forest Park. Hoggle. Pierce. Met an abundance of Ians. Good deal. Fun times. We love you, Ronald. We love you so much! Put many things in mouth (pica?), came homeat five-thirty, went to sleep at six, got up at eight. Raah.
First IM soccer game this afternoon, we lost 4-0 to Compton. To Compton! I don't know if can show my face up there for a few weeks. My first time reffing, too, and that was alright. Dinner was vegan yummy, and then I came home. Now I must do Latin, SOSC reading.
If I got enough prospies and tied them together, do you think I could make a raft?
Palm Sunday
"Gender equality is not really a part of the essence of ninj.... ivity." 04/04/2004
I feel that was justified by the fact that it's the best thing I've said all year. Patrick and I were re-hashing the Pirate vs. Ninja debate. I fear it will never have a satisfactory conclusion, much like there was never a definitive answer to Matt's and my "Car vs. bike while escaping Mongol horde in semi-urban environment" debate. Granted, I have to concede that "Ninjas of the Carribean" would be far cooler than "Teenage Mutant Pirate Turtles", but that doesn't at all deal with the matter at hand. Therefore, Patrick, I defy you to give me six unassailable points demonstrating ninja superiority. Should you be able to do so, I will drop my arguments and even compose a little "Ninjas Beat the Pirates" ditty. And no, the flying thing won't work.
A curiousity: Persons with vision impairments generally seem nervous about the idea of reinstituting natural selection.
Friday
"I love youly; I love youishly." -Robert Germany, 03/31/2004
So what's the best feeling of all? I'm going to have to agree with Soulcrate Music and say "The best part of all is the reflection in my brother's eyes: I know he's alive."
Fun hypothetical: What if Johnny Cash had been a rapper? I can so very much see 'J. Cash and his Cash Money Crew' rapping out "Don't Take Your Guns to Town" with a heavy backbeat. Tell a friend.
If wishes were horses, then beggars would eat a lot more horseflesh.
Thursday
"My mother is married to a man my father's age." - Jena, 03/31/2004
So, I just re-done the links page, and fiddled with some other stuff around the site to boot. Raah.
Yeah, I'm tired of using notepad now.
Tuesday, First Week, Spring Quarter
"Spandex is the pinnacle of comfort. It's like you're not even wearing clothes." -Dinesh, 01/10/2003
First off, Erin is awesome. I put her name in bold because she's just that awesome. So. Awesome. After reading my last post, she sent me an e-mail, longer than the post was, full of encouragement, hope, and wisdom. It meant a whole lot, especially because she's been dealing with life's junk for far longer, and in far greater quantities, than I have, and if she says things aren't that bad, I'm going to believe her. Man, do I love that girl.
As Lotto says: "I used to get so stressed out about all this shit I couldn't figure out; I used to fold my hands on my knees."
"But now I'm less afraid of being broken-hearted."
Incidentally, more proof; other notables in the same picture as me include Andy Kiersz and Lauren Perez.
Second Saturday of Spring Break
"It's like musical tupperware." - Martin, 06/02/2003
Resolutions for the new quarter: I will
hang out with Beth more.
hang out with Geoff less.
not wait until the last hour or two to do my homework.
write my papers before they are due.
finish the reading for my papers before the night before they're due.
begin the reading before the night before the paper is due.
do the reading for my papers, period.
be frugal with my money and effective with my time.
give fewer compliments.
talk less is general.
talk more when it's important to do so.
keep in better touch with my non-Chicago friends.
try to make more non-University friends in Chicago.
wash my jeans more often.
go to church more often and more eclectically.
write more poetry.
write more short stories.
write better, all told.
spend less time on the computer.
spend more time on my bike.
try to break with commercialism.
get better grades.
establish a firm and healthy dietary pattern.
establish a firm and healthy sleeping pattern.
throw all of this aside for a week to lead the Shoreland Scav Hunt team to victory, of course.
Road trip was fun, but nothing that would be interesting to relate. The new Harvest Moon looks like it is awesome, but it's only for Game Cube, and there's apparantly only three marriageable girls, rather than five or whatever it is on 64 or SNES. I like horseradish, and am afraid of of extremely fine girls and my grandfather. I search for the meaning I once had in life, and wonder if I have, in fact, forgotten it. I earnestly hope to die, and soon, but have resigned myself to a long life. I can no longer fly. I can no longer remember, hear, or see without assistance and concentration. I am twenty years old, and an old man to boot. I am twenty years old, nearly twenty-one, and I have already given up drinking at least once. I am still bitter about my last girlfriend, and still wistful about the girl I loved before her. I still ache when I think of either of them. I am ashamed that I cut off my hair for no reason, and I am completely cold-hearted to the plight of almost all other human beings. I do not even believe that they are human, that I am human. They -we- are automata, and I can sometimes feel myself becoming more a machine each passing day, each passing moment. I am a bastard, in the modern sense of the word, and it takes a great deal of my will not to become worse. I fear my will. I have seen myself do terrible things, break people, and destroy what beautiful and unique, all for the sake of doing, changing, pragmatizing. I have fought countless battles against myself and lost most of them. I know from experience that if I met me, I would not be able to tolerate being near me. I am coming to find that I do not like the fact that the people I am so close to are so close to someone like me. I have been ranting now for what should be more than a paragraph, and I am still of the subject of myself.
And that sickens me.
Feeds: